On September 16, 2013, there was a trail that few hashers who attended will forget. Set by Cum and Feel It, Just Pat (now known as Double Glazed), and Just Chris (our own Snidely Whipass), this epic journey through East Syracuse started with a pirate theme, and ended in desolation.

Upper Decker Wrecker who had the misfortune of showing up for trail that day. I had the privilege to exchange texts with UDWs. This is his story:

Me: Can you tell me everything you remember about that railroad track hash a couple years ago?
UDWs: Which one?
Me: The one I didn’t go to, that ended at the B2
UDWs: The one we yelled at on? / Super long by east Syracuse maybe?
Me: Yes yes!
UDWs: Oh yeah what about it. / Somewhere by that Baird street house we looked at to buy. / There’s railroad tracks. We were on them for awhile.
Me: Keep going. / What else do you remember?
UDWs: Are you talking location or what happened
Me: What happened
UDWs: It got super dark / People were getting lost / Caffy picked people up / We ended at the B2. OTD ordered a shit ton of wings and we ate them all / We did circle inside I think
Me: Nice nice. Anyone get named or anything?
UDWs: I can’t remember. It was 2.5 years ago / OTD ran circle. I remember that. I’m pretty sure it was inside. Since it was so dark and we came in so spread out / I don’t think we named anyone cause I would have remembered being pissed about throwing beer all over someone inside. I wouldn’t have like that / Pretty ire we had a picture check on a bridge. Over the tracks / But not positive we have run the area a few times
Me: Awesome, thanks! / You just wrote a rehash
UDWs: It was a couple people’s first time. I remember that. But I can’t remember who.
Me: That’s okay. You did pretty good for 2 and a half years back.
UDWs: Yeah. I just remember it was 8 miles.

Note: content has not been edited, to ensure you all get the real feel of having a text conversation with my husband.

Respectfully submitted,
Slip and Swallow

Someone told me Loonies was writing this one. Just waiting on it.

You know it’s going to be a good hash when you type in “HSBC Bank Manlius” and Android replies that no such business exists.

Nevertheless, I managed to find the location and waited in the heat for the rest of the kennel. Cum and Feel It must have realized she was going to play the part of lifesaver in this heat by providing a buffet of beer and canned margaritas. While we were waiting for Magical Dickslit and co-hare Stiffy Lube, Flesh Flaps brought out her hula hoops and it was once again proven that women can hula and guys for the most part excel only at watching and drinking beer, though there were quite a few valiant tries.

Hares were quite late, and rudely left no beer for us hounds, but we were graced by the presence of Ithaca’s honorable Master Baster, along with a strong contingent of Ithaca hashers, a visitor from New York City, and some other honorable guests. Four (five?) virgins joined us on this blazing hot day as well. Baster called circle together we warmed up with a rousing rendition of “Father Abraham” – focusing on how to be a priest with rights, lefts, other right, other lefts, OOHs and AAHs! Amazingly there were no crashes and lots of laughs.

Finally! The hares ended up arriving much too late, and without any beer. Magical seemed to use every hashing symbol in his chalk talk and we finally broke to scout trail. We entered Mill Run Park and ran up the dirt trail to a check. Since it was the first check, we of course ran the wrong way, and had to be redirected back down to the right trail. Once on the right trail we ran through the park, over fences and around obstacles to the picnic pavilion. Here the trail broke into Turkey and Eagle with most of us, myself included, intrigued to try the Eagle. It should have been renamed as Trout instead of Eagle as we romped through a fishing area and into Limestone Creek.

There were many hash crashes due to faster and higher than normal conditions of the creek, as it had rained epically the night prior. After my second hash crash, I came to the realization that fat floats and swam where I could. It was a great way to beat the heat and provided a good amount of amusement, as the half-minds around me would misjudge an area and slip. Speaking of Slip, Puddle Humper and Vomit Comet were adventurous pups, happily swimming along, though Puddle gave up before we were finished. Being dropped by Slip and forced to float along to the next rock he could reach, he was pissed and held it against her for hours. Unfortunately, after about quarter mile, the pack had to climb out, only then realizing that water-logged running gear in heat is very uncomfortable.

The trail then led us away from the park and into the Manlius cemetery for our (FINALLY!) first Beer Near! While the kennel undertook their first real rendition of “Chicago,” others drank and socialized. I got stuck doing a body search of myself after removing a leech from my ankle. This got quite a few laughs from people but hey, if something is going to suck on me, it better be human and female or it is going to be forcibly removed. As the beer ran low, we ran up the cemetery and into the other cemetery across the road. I am not sure if the fountain we encountered was part of true trail but I am sure that most of us made it part of it. We changed directions around the maintenance area and ran to Route 92. At this time, running up the hill in the heat started to take its toll and many started to slow down.

We slowly proceeded to make a right turn into a residential area and ran for about 6 blocks (with the exception of the FRBs who got tricked by a YBF into running 12 blocks). At this time some flowers mysteriously ended up in hasher’s hands as we made a quick left/right and ended up at Chez Dickslits for the second Beer Near. Here, the kennel met Momma and Poppa Dickslit, and we were welcomed to use the family pool.

Some of us were graceful entering the water and some like me didn’t care and flopped in the best way we could. The hash learned to play a new game, Pool Penis Cock Ring Toss. Well, actually it was a ring toss onto pool noodles but the rules stated they were held between your legs and you had to thrust to get the ring down the length. Flesh Flaps seemed to be a pro at this sport and many others succeeded but most were content to just lounge around and cool off from the run so far. After realizing the harriettes had abandoned the game, and only harriers were left trying to out-penis themselves, the game abruptly ended.

Though we would have spent hours, the hares reminded us that there were still trial to find! And so, we were on our way. Upon leaving, Dickslits with “Meet the Hashers”, presented them with flowers we had freshly plucked from their neighbor’s discard pile and proudly exclaimed in unison “Thank You Mr. and Mrs. Dickslit”.

Onward we ran, to a local playground for a Playground Check! Our wetness not withstanding, the inner children inside us were released onto the equipment, frightening a young family trying to enjoy the sunshine. On the mesh rope pyramid rope, we must have exceeded the weight limit but we had a glorious picture afterward. Running a zigzag course back, we encountered many adventures on our trek back toward Circle. We almost ran over a deer which would have made for an interesting story. A helmet was found by Pleasantly Average and donned by him as he went around the circle. He said he needed to check the protection it offered and many a hasher took the time to let him have one across the head. The helmet became known as “Gispert’s Helmet of Honor” and will be given out to those hashers who prove true half-mind heroics.

At Circle, a light drizzle was started as Baster guest RA’ed. Virgins’ circle-cherries were popped amid lightning and thunder as the storm got worse. A rousing celebration for Just Nick’s birthday was performed amidst many cheers and much drinking.

Finally after abbreviated Down-Downs we couldn’t take it anymore and we hightailed it down the path back to the car with inch thick hail pelting us. Some of us mused this must be God’s answer to us singing “Jesus Can’t Go Hashing” in all the cemeteries and churches lately. The trail back was treacherous as now one could see well and mud was coming down the hill and making the trail slippery. Slip slipped (obviously) and Cum and Feel It felt the effects of her tumble the next day. During a momentary reprieve in the storm, a large number of the pack changed clothes and took off for the On-After at Stingers, which, coincidentally was closed. Stiffy Lube’s car got stuck in the cemetery parking lot, and a rescue team had to be sent out to him. Just Nick and Slip’s trunk got friendly. And then the kennel took The Ugly Duckling by storm (pun intended).

Respectfully submitted,
Just Tim (and Slip and Swallow)

Who went and wants to tell Slip and the rest of the SOH4 community what happened?? Email me!

On an overcast night we were summoned to Borio’s in search of Beer, fun, Beer, exercise and of course most importantly BEER!  The drive in was misty and when I arrived the parking lot was completely empty! Apparently Borio’s owners must have heard of us and said “Not on your life!” What really happened? Borio’s is closed on Mondays. Nevertheless, Pleasantly Average insisted that the hares had found the perfect place “nearby” for the On-After. Beer was drank, and Professor Crash Pants ran Chalk Talk. “Be sure to follow the marks on the right side of the road”. As we departed in search of more beer, Chunks & Dunks grabbed the spare tire from his car, realizing there would be an opportunity for drowning and assuming it would help him float. We kept trying to tell him it wouldn’t work but to his credit he managed to carry it all the way down the trail. Of course, the one time the pack of half minds listens and runs on the right side of the road, Professor Crash Pants yells “Oops, we mean the left side!”. Silly rabbit.

Coming into the golf course, Tweedle Me got to lay down for a bit and get dragged by her pup Just Honey: Hash Crash # 1 for the night!  We continued for a few blocks and a few checks with the flour rapidly disintegrating in the mist until we hit the first BEER NEAR in a construction area. While we drank, Pubic Offender modeled his stylish flapper dress and pitched the upcuming Red Dress Run and reminded everyone to cum out and support Vera House (who, by the way, often use White Ribbons  for support so accessorizing with them would be a nice touch).  We were warned by the hares during the next leg of the run we would have to run through someone’s backyard and to be respectful and quiet. After about ¼ miles we crossed through said yard and ran down a residential area while being stared at by adults and some kids rode bike next to us asking “Who’s the guy in the red dress?”. Needless to say, another neighborhood shocked by the SOH4. We then reversed direction through a field behind some sort of factory, ran up the street and then entered a path only a hare could run down. By this time, the flour was almost non-existent and Cum and Feel It stayed back to help the stragglers find the correct trail with help from PO.  The second Beer Near was at the end of a windy woodland path, and was greatly appreciated.  What better place to drink beer than in Oneida Lake? The water was great and we all engaged in some good old fashion water wrestling including watching the Tweedles tag team people from behind. Chunks was right – the tire floated! It would hold a small mouse up, but certainly not a hasher! The next leg was a short sprint to the pontoon dock which miraculously didn’t sink much with all of use on it for a Picture Check. Afterwards, most of the group did loops through some neighborhoods on the way back while the DFL contingent took the straight path to Borio’s (sometimes it better to hash smarter and not harder).

With Borio’s closed, PA assured us that the bar was 2 miles away, and called Fisher’s Landing. In fact, it was closer to 10 miles, and called Fisher Bay. Naturally the entire kennel pulled over at a bar that was 2 miles away, called Cooper’s Landing (see the mix up?).after a bit of wandering, and line of cars were pulled over and got directions to the bar from a State Trooper. We may have started in Cicero, Onondaga County but this hash became a 2 county hash as the bar was in Bridgeport, Madison County. The wet hashers slogged in, ordered food, grabbed beers and proceeded with a smaller but still relatively energetic circle for down downs and announcements. The evening ended with old friendships renewed and new ones started as well as finding out that Cum and Feel It will help me with my diet by eating any fries which come with my food.

Respectfully Submitted,

Just Tim (the one from Syracuse)

Before trail even began, SOH4 has established that we are a drinking club with a counting problem as we skipped run 36 (or the analversery counted twice, or we have some especially fuzzy memories of a trail no one remembers). And speaking of fuzzy memories, this was also the Ithaca Oz-themed Lions & Trails & Beers weekend recovery hash…

“But it wasn’t a dream. It was a place. And you and you and you… and you were there. But you couldn’t have been could you?”

Over fifty of us showed up at Coleman’s in Tipp Hill sporting our finest pajamas and bedhead for the Strangest Dream Slumber Party aka Happy Trails aka the Divorce Trail. Among others, Genital Manager and Floppy showed off their robes, Beemer sported Captain America jammies, and Just Ginny and Cum and Feel It sported some stylish nightwear.

Not sure if he knew it was the theme for the night or just what he runs in normally, but Virgin Just Rick showed up in a nighty. Oh and we learned Pocket Full of Lube still has the pocket full of, presumably, the same lube. Some new fuzzy memories would be made this night…

Hares OTD, Slip, and Beemer started things off with chalk talk and dreadful flour penmanship. PCP received the shovel of shame for accidental firewalking / second-degree hot pants at Ithaca Weekend… but accordingly was unable to run trail and PA took the shovel as surrogate.

And we were on out for the Happy Trails, and as all divorces begin at at a church, that was our first stop. Despite handing out 9 bottles of bubbles, half-minds were unable to blow them at the song check behind the church as instructed two minutes prior. Perhaps the song check was just that amazing… for those of you who missed it, it’s a long story but Jesus (and Jonah, and Job, among others) unfortunately still cannot go hashing for a variety of reasons. I’m sure this topic will come up again.

And then it was onto the closeby ‘honeymoon’ check, where it’s possible that without first-time-at-SOH4 (and hopeful kennel adoptee?) out-of-towner Lickalottapuss we would all still be standing. On out to the first BN at Oompa’s Pizzeria, with most failing to note the connection to Ithaca’s Oz weekend theme. Sigh. At the BN we enjoyed pizza, learned that marriage licenses expire in NY in sixty days, and found out that Venus was actually sporting her exceptionally plain wedding night outfit for trail. Tweedle again told a joke while nearly falling off a chair, as did others (in fact telling jokes and nearly falling off chairs).

Next trail stop was Stone Thrower’s Park near the upside down traffic light, as clearly at this point in a divorce trail things were not going as planned and it was time for a beverage. After on-out from that check an impromptu appropriate-for-the-nights-theme on trail rendition on Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” occurred.

Trail would go through an arboreum before ending up in the second BN in Myrtle Cemetary… however, some hashers elected to hop the fence rather than follow true trail while other half-minds simply had trouble running. Somewhere along the way, Just Ginny, fully sober and of sound mind, decided that she no longer liked her pajamas and that it would be a good idea to get rid of them via a hash crash that turned them into bloody, ripped shreds.

The second BN was the end of the combined trail for the evening, and a special circle of “I’ve ____ on trail” down-downs was held for mostly acceptable hash behavior to allow time for live hare Slip to get a head start. However, the shovel of shame was also transferred to Just Ginny for her truly epic hash crash, and same shovel also served as a vessel of choice for her down-downs the rest of the evening. As for the accusations about who had done what in their hashing career on trail and in circle, a small group of hashers had a sizable number of down downs.

Logically, a divorce trail has to end with those going their separate ways. From here the trail split into Beemer’s hares trail and Slip’s harriette trail… in theory anyway, as most harriettes were drawn into Beemer’s magnetic personality, charm, wit, and natural Fultonian odor and ended up taking his trail instead, leaving poor Slip waiting by herself at the halfway point without any/many harriettes to keep her company. Our poor RA, so lonely and lonely alone.

Everyone eventually stumbled back for circle. We met four virgins, down downs were handed out for various offenses including DNA on trail during last week’s analversary hash, Lickalottapuss reminded everyone that we do not point (aka digitize) because we don’t (or do) know where fingers have been and that future instances would be down downs, and then it was onto namings. Demonstrations of a banana show and harriette-on-harriette doggy style with pepperoni stick were provided as part of evenings acceptable hash behavior.

Namings: We had multiple quorums on names this week! Just Stephanie was named Pink Taco as that was her costume name for Underwear Day a couple hashes back. Just Rick was named Flying Semen for his naval aviation, or at least that’s what he said he’s telling his grandkids. Just Bob was named Ezra Both Ways for a variety of reasons, the sharable one being that Bob is a palindrome (heh heh just noticed Ezra backwards is Arze); remember unnamed hashers, we do pay attention to your answers in circle! And finally, after whittling list of names down from seemingly hundreds, Just Ginny was named Shark Week for the state of her bottoms in second half of trail and circle.

On-after in Coleman’s for OTD’s divorce / happy trails party where chocolate covered strawberries, champagne, cookies, and crackers were served along with lots and lots of beverages. By some miracle we actually cleared out most of a section of Coleman’s and it turned into a singalong of, among others, Yogi Bear, Glorious Victorious, a couple verses of Chicago, and round two of Jesus Can’t Go Hashing. The evening gets increasingly fuzzy from that point…
“And I can decide while I’m alive I’ll feel alive and what happens next I guess I’ll know when I’ve, gotten there…”

Respectfully submitted,
One Trick Dick

A Hash Down Memory Lane Otherwise Known as the SOH4 ONE YEAR ANALVERSARY

It’s been 1 year of debauchery for the SOH4 kennel and there was a need to find misplaced memories for older members and to share history with newer members. Slip and Swallow, Dr. Drinks Alone, et al had promised a run not so similar to the past yet highlighting all the significant underachievement of the hashers. We started this intrepid trip in an alley by Down Under Leather, a perfect place for misdirection, a yeti  and vodka laced Jell-O in multiple colors (or was it one color and we had a little too much?). After the legal disclaimer we were off and running. At first it looked like a rehash of 2 weeks ago but then Slip veered us off and onto the grounds of a dorm for the first memory.

MEMORY #1 (The Monster Hash): Slip mentioned that on the hash in question there was the first ever attempt at a pyramid and that with 3 times the people we could do a more spectacular one now. Did we succeed, not so much but we tried. 79 people with everyone wanting to be a bottom and no one wanting to be a top made for only a two layer pile of bodies but fun was had, laughs were had and people watching from the building were wondering what the fuck was going on in there yard.

We then coursed through the public works area to the top of Oakwood Cemetery and tried to speed down the will while dodging gravestones. It was general amazement that there were no hash crashes reports. We then discovered the second memory marker.

MEMORY #2 (Dive In): Slip brought out a pail of water and called forth Chunks and Dunks as well as Turtle Dick to reenact the fateful scene from whence came Chunk’s naming. It was a ritualistic affair of Chunk’s almost drowning and then when pulled on board blowing chunks. Many hashers were disappointed that there were no chunks blown this time.

We then proceeded another couple of hundred yards and Kickstand decided shot were in order and shots of Limoncello were had. We had been followed for a while by a red car and we invited them to hear us sing. We sang a spirited version of meet the hashers and they seemed to speed off, rather odd we thought. Virgin to SOH4 and ex-rugby player Just Mark proved that while hash songs were extreme, rugby songs can provide disturbing images with his rendition of “I Love Nancy Reagan”. I am not sure if it was the Jell-O, the limoncello or the song but many a stomach turned and we on-outed immediately. Many of us left the trail to run up to the pyramid and a brave soul or two even tried to climb it before we ran up a small hill and into the woods where there was the Beer Near located by a Lion grave marker and a bench.

MEMORY #3 (First Ever BN): Slip told of the first time SOH4 gathered for run where it mostly began with a smaller group that seemed to fit the space easier. Most of us didn’t hear as we were trying to get a hold of the beer. After slaking our hard earned first Just Ned tried to faux feline fornication with the lion statue while others came up with some real bad jokes with Tits McSmart leading the joke off. Tweedle Me, in perfect Tweedle fashion, told one atrociously bad, laughter ensued, and we were off.

We continued a downward trek for a while with a lot of us getting lost around the old chapel. This was due to being told the trail could be marked with toilet paper and from the looks of it, we had found a cesspool full of it. Moving along back on course we came out behind a dormitory which lead to another memory marker.

MEMORY #4 (April Fool’s or When The Beer Got Stolen): Pleasantly Average and Professor Crash Pants regaled us with the Easter/April fools hash where he set up the Beer Near and someone had stolen it.  The lady in question read about it during SOH4’s moment of fame, and for penance returned the beer in the form of a good craft beer – see rehash #31. To celebrate this, Easter eggs were given to the hashers with rabbit turds (milk duds) in them. The hashers found a better use for the eggs, using them to pelt the one who got the beer stolen.

Off we went again, down the street, following the hare, dying for beer when we see our objective. After a few minutes of delay while waiting for the cops to clear out of lot so we could open Slip’s car and having to see One Trick Dick strip, the Beer Near was accomplished and our old friend, the pepperoni, made its sexual return.

Memory #5 (Dance, Dance, Dance): Running Commentary instantly grabbed the light pole and started to pole dance just like the night we on-aftered at Candy’s Hillside. The pepperoni once again was in a place which now makes many of us doubtful about eating it again and the dancer even got tipped. Everyone had a good laugh thinking the end should be near. Needless to say the hares weren’t done yet.

While we had to run across the way to Walnut Park, Slip decided to take her car. There were many stares as we ran across the business area but once at the park, another memory marker appeared.

Memory #6 (Whip IT Out at the Ballgame): The legend of the Yeti was explained and tied into kickball hashing. A very hot a tried yeti went into details about the importance of this hash. The rest was short because the hard part was to come.

The on-out was a full run up the hill to Thornden Park, 2 city blocks of 50 degree climb that even the fastest FRB had to slow down. This was one of the shortest distances ran this evening but in many people’s opinion ended up with the best reward and the last memory marker.

Memory #7 (Holiday Ho Ho Hobo Hash): two drawings of Christmas ornaments were produced as the tale of the 8-mile Christmas hash was relived. A similarity of length was brought up by some but was put to an end quickly when everyone was reminded of the prize at the end. On cue, Kickstand brought out the Goldslager and there was much rejoicing. After several decent sized shots, Kicky and Tits McSmart took at 10 minute head start to live hare the end of the hash.

We were off, we were running, WE WERE LOST! Many of us ended up in the Thornden Park Rose Garden and managed to interrupt a couple there. I guess it isn’t romantic to see a lot of hashers scouring the area for a trail as the couple fled or sight. Eventually we realized we were fucked and eventually found true trail back to the Marshall Street parking lot. Slip supplied the beer (YEAH BEER!), acquisitions were issued, virgins were fully fucked up and a yeti (Bestialayeti: the hasher formerly known as Weak Knees) got renamed and showered. ON after was at Faegans where cheap bud light was had, stories were told, and eventually the M Street area was raided for food. I am not sure if it was a good hash or an ok hash, but why did I wake up the next morning hearing Slip singing “Brother Hasher” in my sleep?

Respectfully submitted,
Just Tim

You know that dream where you wake up in the forest wearing only your underwear and being chased by approximately 70 other equally awkwardly clad people?

This hash was like that…but with beer.

We began our journey down the Erie canal, only to realize fairly early on that we were going the wrong way. (Back check 69 is probably not in the urban dictionary, but it could be.)

So, we ran the other way, past our initial departure point an on to a clearing on the other side.

And then we drank some beer.

And then we retraced our steps again, revisited the starting markers again, but tricky hares were at work and the revised trail pointed in another direction. So…we ran that way.

And then we drank some beer.

The second beer near was a structural test load of the occupant capacity of a not too scenic overlook. It passed, surprisingly.

At this point we realize that Virgin Just Max might have gotten lost in all the revearsals, but somehow he shows up at the end.

And the end is near. A jaunty little run brings us back to the beginning again where virgins are taunted, accusations are made, and underwear are judged. Pink Taco for the win.

Two new names were also bestowed: “Genital Manager” (formerly known as Just Pete)and “Cums Sparingly” (formerly known as Just Bill).

The moral of this story…
Some people (Slip) seem to have superfluous amounts of animal print underwear which they (she) are fine sharing with both men and animals.

Respectfully submitted,
Just Amber

For Gispert’s birthday, PO, Just Kerry, Just Dave, and Beemer Creemher threw a trail party near Varsity Pizza. Hats and accessories worn by many to celebrate.

Up and down hills, under a Dome, to a picture check statue, and through a cemetery to highest spot (or so) in Syracuse we went where many virgins and horde learned several, but not all, reasons Jesus cannot go hashing.

Clearly mismanagement solution to our kennel growing and breeding like rabbits was to provide lube and piñatas full of condoms at second bn. No DNA on trail reported , but what happens on trail…

The rain made the roads slippery yet hash crashes were few . Circle indoors at Varsity Pizza following food, drinks, and bday cake. OTD virgin RA experience also featured the new soh4 megaphone to metaphorically herd a horde of loud cats in catnip factory. Nurse and Male Bait looking good in soh4 orange. On after after at Faegans after we literally closed Varsity where minor debauchery ensued.

Namings: Just Kerry now Tits McSmart in honor of work in student affairs, Just Dave now Atreyu for his never ending story during q and a , and Just Chris now Pocket Full of Lube for having , well, a pocket full of lube at q and a.

OTD nomination for soh4 glorious victorious verse was also offered during circle: “oh there are no serious hashers in Syracuse, oh there are no serious hashers in Syracuse, cause they only run paved streets in shoes they bought at Fleet Feet, oh there are no serious hashers in Syracuse”. For the love of Gispert someone come up with something better!

As the circle venue was closing accusations were cut short.  You know who you are and what you did !

Respectfully submitted,
One Trick Dick

Hashers in Wonderland,
starring a record 77 SOH4 Hashers (15 virgins!)

Just Ezra, Just Julian, and Just Andy had grown bored of the mundane shiggy trails, poison ivy patches, and false trails these experienced hashers had grown so accustomed to. Just Ezra longed for a trail he could bike to, Just Julian wanted to find a nice harriette to take home, and Just Andy just wanted a name. While these three lamented, a white rabbit named Pleasantly Average appeared, claiming that he “was late, was late for a very important date with PCP and Vomit Commit.” Leaving his family behind, he told the three young men he was an accomplished hare who would show these novices things they had never seen before in the world of hashing. They followed him down the rabbit hole to the wonderland of Camillus, NY.

After a day of wandering around the haunted artillery, setting false trails, getting lost in the woods, and losing their keys, the crew finally had set the wonderful trail the rabbit had promised them.

The next day, seventy-eight hashers gathered from all over wonderland to see the trail the foursome had set. So many came that cars were parked all through magical land. There was a barrel full of beer that said “DRINK ME,” and countless virgins carrying signs that said “EAT ME”. These magical elixirs sated the hashers until they set out to find the trail, not knowing what wondrous creatures they would encounter along the way.

As the hashers made their way through some grassy shiggy, a magical, grinning Just Julian, the Cheshire cat, appeared at a shot check with a bottle of whiskey. The cat told the hashers they must continue on their journey, in search of more enchanting beverages. With little flour in sight, the hashers continued until they came upon the location of their mad tea party. To get to this mad place, hashers had to make the difficult choice: would they follow turkey or eagle? Beer was the drink of choice at this mad tea party, so many chose the route that would take them there the fastest. Just Tim (yellow shirt) was lighting the way with his cock light as the hashers approached. They climbed the wonderland artillery, enjoying their mad beverages, singing verses of their favorite hash songs (“Whip it Out” and “Meet the Hashers”). They sang for the local onlookers we will call the March Hare and the Hatter, who were enjoying some magical McDonald’s treats on that fine evening.

After this mad party, hashers continued running in search of more beverages. Running through glass shards and rock pits, the hashers stumbled upon more beer, despite being constantly distracted (in a good way) by the nearly naked bodies of Cummando Cobbler, Flesh Flaps, and Just Matt. Mudman led the group in a rousing version of “Yo Ho,” aimed at the Queen of Hearts, Dr. Drinks Alone. Unimpressed with Mudman’s antics, Drinks Alone proclaimed, “off with his head”.

On their way back to the on after in the wonderland of the townie dive bar that is Aerhin’s Pub, hashers Turtle Dick and Honey Boo Boo splashed in the mud making sure everyone got dirty and wet that night. When hashers arrived, the circle was made, down downs were given, virgins got drunk, and hares got named. In wonderland that night, Just Ezra was named Keyhole, Just Andy was named Tom Diddle, and Just Julian was named Morning Glory Hole.

After the magical elixirs, pizza, and wings, many hashers awoke the next morning wondering if the previous night had been a dream. Memories were foggy, they didn’t recognize their surroundings. They had such a fun night it could have only been a fairy-tale.

Respectfully submitted,
Doctor Drinks Alone (aka: Queen of Hearts)